


Sun's Gone Dim

by AeeDee



Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Age Difference, Angst, Frottage, Jealousy, M/M, Oral Sex, Secret Relationship, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-19
Updated: 2013-09-19
Packaged: 2017-12-27 00:57:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/972426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AeeDee/pseuds/AeeDee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roy's got a bit of a crush, and too many inconvenient feelings. A certain someone else has annoying feelings as well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sun's Gone Dim

**Author's Note:**

> In the timeline, this occurs when Roy is Red Arrow, during season 1. This is also the first fic I ever wrote for YJ, so the characterization is a tad different than my later stories. Did my best to polish it, though!
> 
> Also, the title is from a song that inspired the story.

Inside his head, there’s only silence. Empty space, consumed with nothing but an irritating hum; the noise of static in distress. He's watching the road pass them by, a dizzying blur of shifting colors and lines as the vehicle rumbles down a busy highway. The occasional flash of another car speeding past; the distant horizon of a setting sun, slowly sinking beneath the flat ocean.

Orange light, bathing him in an almost oppressive warmth. But Roy barely feels it. Because all he can really feel, right now-

A particularly light, gentle weight against his arm. A delicate, wide-eyed creature of vibrant attitude and personality, now fallen completely still. That dynamic voice reduced into a silent rhythm of slow, shallow breathing; he’s afraid to look down to confirm, but he’s certain the kid’s asleep.

He wants to look, but he can’t. He wants to see it for himself, to gaze upon that face when it’s completely at rest, for what would be the first time. But he can’t. Because that would be suspicious. Someone else would notice. And considering the company they currently kept, that potential someone else would say something obnoxious, something to interrupt his moment of silence and peace and gentle breathing and warm contact and-

He couldn’t let that happen. Because this moment, delicate as it was, would probably never happen again.

He focuses on the sound of that breathing. He closes his eyes, to block out other distractions; to forget, for that instant, that anyone else is there. He’s focusing on the warmth against his arm, and the feeling of how soft the face is that rests against his shoulder. When the kid shifts position, a small sound escapes. A soft breath of air, a faint half-murmured sigh dances against his skin.

He starts to shake. A pained, slow and deep stress, tension like he’s being stabbed, steady and slow. Because he’s never been this close, and he’s never felt so far away.

He’s starting to shake, more now than ever before. He clenches his jaw to divert some of the spare energy, but nothing makes it easier. And finally, he bites the bullet. He looks down, slowly to attract as little attention as possible. At least, that’s what he tells himself. The truth is that he’s afraid. He’s afraid to capture this moment, to materialize it as a genuine, actual memory. Because it will soon be gone, and that emptiness in his heart will ache more than he’s ever endured before.

But he looks. He can’t see that face, not from his angle; but he sees that body at rest, and the gentle way the boy’s leaning into him, like he’s completely unafraid. He notices the shine of his hair, and how the sun’s orange light casts an individual and dazzling glow on each strand. The mask over his eyes is sharply reflecting back; as he breathes his entire body shifts a little, just enough to send that light moving, the shadows traveling, the same light and shadows that crawl across them both, as if, for this one moment, they are one being.

A sudden impulse to do something; to touch him, somehow. In any possible way. He’s inclined to reach up a hand, maybe to subtly touch his back. He could maybe even be clever and almost hold him, under the guise of playing it cool and acting like he was just getting close to move him back over. He could even act annoyed, like he didn’t want some kid sleeping against him, like he didn’t want to be a pillow for someone he adored, like he didn’t love every single thing about this-

But then, Wally happens.

“Haha,” a high-pitched laugh as he’s looking over his shoulder, staring at them with eyes contorted in amusement, “What a loser!”

And when Roy looks up to meet Wally’s glance, it takes everything he can manage to not curse, or frown, or mutter something, anything to express even a fraction of the frustration he now feels.

“I told him not to stay up all night, but _no_ ,” the brat’s almost talking to himself, as Roy follows through with his initial plan. He does get to touch him. He puts a hand on his shoulder, flinching for a second as Dick makes another sound, this time like he’s on the verge of waking up. Wally’s still talking, “He never listens,” as Roy’s placing a second hand on Dick, this time on the opposite arm to steady him as he gently, slowly shifts the boy upright, gradually helping to direct his inevitable lean back into the seat.

And through his hands, he feels that warmth; the warmth of his body, the warmth of someone who was blissfully basking in the sun.

But he doesn’t have time to enjoy it, so he moves back. He withdraws. And his hands feel that unique sensation of emptiness; he idly curves his fingers around air, before catching himself before it becomes noticeable.

Wally is staring at him, waiting for a reply. Waiting for the usual smartass comment.

So he doesn’t disappoint; he keeps up appearances like always. He’s an old pro. “He doesn't listen to anyone.”

“You got that right,” Wally smirks, before turning back to face forward, to initiate a clumsy conversation with Megan. She responds with wide eyes and a subtle smile when she speaks. Her voice is melodic and friendly, and when she talks like that, to Roy's ears she sounds just like _him_. She’s even started to learn his laugh…

Roy sits still, and looks out the window. As the sun sets, the light is vanishing from the sky. His orange moment is gone forever; he closes his eyes and tries to focus on anything but this, this pain deep inside his chest. This miserable ache.

But the more he tries not to think about it, the more he does. And the more he dwells and lingers on his emptiness, the more he can recall that feeling of warm skin, the gentle breathing, and the overwhelming experience of anxiety and stress and frustration and joy.

He was genuinely happy, when the kid first leaned against him. He was so happy, he thought he could die.

But this feeling… this…

It’s all gone back to normal.

-

When they reach Mount Justice, the vehicle rumbles to a stop. Roy’s snapped out of his silent space by the opening of a car door, but he can’t tell who opened it. He opens his eyes and the world is dark. The night sky is almost black; he steps outside and looks up. Darkness consumed with glittering stars. He stands still, and hears the rest of the gang disembarking from the van.

“Well, that was fun,” he hears his former mentor’s voice, and a small comment from Wally, something he can’t make out. And the faint murmur of his name-

“What,” he turns back to question it.

_Robin._

“I’m sorry for that, uh,” his shoulders shrug, but his lips curl in a hesitant grin, “I kinda just-”

“Passed out,” he affirms.

“Yeah. That,” but the conversation stops there. At least, the line of speech between the two of them. That’s the extent of their exchange. The same as usual.

Because here’s Wally again, the persistent thorn in his side, “Sleeping beauty,” he teases.

Dick cringes, “Don’t start that again.”

Wally continues, nudging him in the shoulder, “Did you find your prince-”

At this point, Roy’s making his exit. As always, he can’t linger too long. He can’t get too comfortable and overextend his welcome. Because that would be more suspicious than anything.

And he can’t risk exposing his interest in what Wally just said.

“Hey,” a sudden and firm hand on his shoulder, as he looks back to see Ollie gazing at him in the darkness. “I appreciated your help today.”

“I just came because-” but of course, he can’t say the rest. Stupid, stupid.

Ollie frowns, but he responds promptly, “Even a member of the Justice League can use some support sometimes.”

“I came to help them,” there’s a nice save. He gestures to the vehicle, “And I don’t see why we rolled back in _this_ , anyway. Can’t you guys afford something more discreet?”

“We take what we can get. We needed a quick way out of there.”

“Miss Martian has a vehicle-”

“Which was damaged in the landing,” Ollie scolds him. “I thought you knew that.”

Right. He did. He’s not sure why it just slipped his mind, but it’s embarrassing. “Right.” He shakes his head, just once like it’ll do any good, “I’m leaving.”

Ollie pauses in a moment of irritation, but he lets it go and calls over his shoulder, “Alright team,” and turns away, “Let’s regroup inside…”

The man’s voice trails off, as Roy’s making his way down into a valley of lush grass and tall trees that are swaying to some faint breeze he can barely feel. He can’t feel much of anything anymore. His brain sends signals he willingly ignores.

He takes a few steps forward, and realizes he has no idea where to go from here. Home is so far away… and he’s feeling so battered and tired from the earlier fight that it’d take more energy than he has to make his way back. So he finds a spot beneath a very tall tree, with leaves so dense they suppress the moonlight. He sits down, thinking that if he has to retire somewhere for a few hours, just to regain some energy, this spot is as good as any.

Because he can’t go inside. He’s in no mood to deal with _them_ , the adults or the children. He’s barely in the right sort of mood to deal with himself, let alone anyone else.

So he sits and settles in. Feels the night air crawl up his back. And he hugs himself for warmth, leaning against the tree’s trunk, letting his heavy eyes close again, this time on their own.

But even as he slips into a waking dream, all he can think of is that moment. Vivid, orange sunlight, and that gentle weight leaning against him, the rhythm of slow and faint breathing. And the urge to reach an arm up around those shoulders, to draw in and hold the object of his affection—no, adoration—closer against him.

Because that’s the truth. He adores. He genuinely adores him. With his dumb humor, and rude laugh. His snarky comments and his sideways glares. His smart observations and his smooth movements. His lean body and his kind face. His dedication and his creativity, and-

He wants to hold him, and never let go.

But that’s the kind of thing that only happens in dreams. And whenever he’d wake up again, all that awaited him was his ordinary life.

There would be no lover to kiss him, when he woke up. There would be no one to laugh and lean in against him, no one he could touch and hold with his hands whenever they felt empty. There is no one he could confess his painful thoughts to, and share his secrets with. There is no one to hear his voice if he feels compelled to spill his heart open, and damn the consequences-

Because this is his life he's built for himself. And in his life, he is alone.

-

“He left already?” Dick’s voice is echoing through the vast room as he glances at Wally for an answer, then to Kaldur when he materializes somewhere behind them, stepping into the room confidently with Megan and Superboy in tow. The group reassembling, save for a mysteriously absent Artemis. But that’s nothing new.

“Yeah,” Wally grimaces, with some sarcasm, “Up and vanished, like always. He’s a ninja.”

“I suspect he’s feeling stressed about something,” Kaldur comments, with his trademark deep voice and calm expression as he politely moves in closer to them.

“Isn’t he always,” Wally pokes fun, but beneath that humor is an unsettling seriousness.

“Guess he got tired of us,” Dick comments. But there’s no smile or grin to be seen, and no joke in his tone. He’s too guarded to be openly disappointed, but he’s not the kind to feign amusement when there’s none to be found.

“I don’t think that’s true,” Megan offers, entering the conversation. “He likes us, right?” she gives a smile to lift their spirits. She doesn’t know him well, but she has no reason to believe he’d harbor any malice for them. She'd never been one to easily believe the rumors otherwise. 

Kaldur agrees promptly, instinctively reassuring her with a gentle hand on her shoulder, “I believe so.”

“I dunno,” Wally shrugs. “The big boy doesn’t like being around us babies.”

“Babies?” Megan asks with a heavy frown.

“I hate that,” with vitrol; Dick startles her with his sudden comment. But despite the curious look from her, and Wally’s wide eyed stare, he says nothing else on the subject.

Kaldur tilts his head, “You seem stressed as well.”

“I am not stressed,” he almost hisses. “I am _annoyed_. There’s a difference.”

“Yeah,” Wally grins, finding a convenient joke to break the tension, “It’s just a lover’s spat.”

“Spat?” Dick raises an eyebrow, barely visible behind his mask, “When did you learn that word.”

Wally throws his hands up with sarcasm, “Like I’ve never heard it before.”

“Guys-” a polite voice attempts.

“I read, you know,” Wally’s insisting.

“They mention _spat_ in your textbooks?”

“Guys,” Kaldur’s statement is more firm this time, as he holds up one hand to get their attention.

“What,” they’re unanimously asking, as he points to the far corner of the room, where Superboy is cautiously leaning forward, as if trying to listen through the wall.

And when that silent boy speaks, his words are solemn and reserved, “There’s someone out there.”

“Wait, hold on,” Dick holds his hands out, as if to steady some invisible current. The others look on curiously, as he raises a question, “Who exactly is having this spat?”

Kaldur sighs to himself.

“Speedy, of course- I mean, Red-” Wally stumbles over the name as usual-

“Yeah, but with who? _Me?_ ”

“What? N-no, I didn't say that,” but he's having difficulty putting the words together. Can't lie fast enough.

“You can’t have a spat all by yourself, dork.”

“I’m sure he’d find a way-”

“No, that’s impossible. Not even possible, even.”

“Those both mean the same thing-”

“What? They do not-”

“Guys.”

“They do, both things you just said-”

“I said two distinctly different words. Impossible, and possible, which means-”

“But you said not _even_ possible, which negates the meaning of-”

“Guys?”

“The phrases mean the same thing, but the words themselves are-”

“You guys!” M’Gann’s cheerful tone breaks through their wall of banter.

“Yeah, gorgeous?” Wally smirks at her, immediately redirecting his attention.

“There is definitely someone out there. I…” she frowns hesitantly, “I can read him.”

“Who is there, M'gann,” Kaldur gently asks.

But she’s almost too nervous to reply. “It’s…” she pauses, before she sheepishly admits, “It’s Red Arrow.”

“What?” Wally almost jumps back.

“What is he still doing here-” Dick asks, almost to himself.

“What is he thinking,” Kaldur questions with some pause.

“I can’t…” her voice trails off, “I don’t think I can tell you.” Her voice is small, and her eyes narrow with uncertainty, “I think it’s too personal.”

Their stunned silence affirms that she’s right.

“But…” she battles with herself, her instinct conflicting with her reason, as she forces it out, “I think you should speak to him, Robin.”

He stiffens up, almost afraid to ask why.

“I think he could use your advice.”

“Green Arrow,” Dick withdraws away from them.

“N-not exactly, but…” she stops herself, before revealing too much.

“Daddy issues? Really, at his age,” Wally’s rolling his eyes.

“That’s not it,” she rushes to his defense, but she quickly stops herself from divulging more information. “It’s just something…”

They await her answer.

“It’s something you might know about.”

“Huh,” Dick sighs out loud, but no one has an answer. But he doesn’t object. He doesn’t protest. He just shakes his head, and gives a slight wave, “Okay, see ya later,” with a casual shrug of his shoulders as he turns to leave. His footsteps echo out over the hollow floor, with the digital voice over the intercom, “RECOGNIZED. ROBIN. B.0.1.”

A flash of light, and he’s gone.

Megan stares after him in complete silence. Her bottom lips quivers slightly, but she bites it to keep from speaking. Because she knows what she wanted to say, but she knows why she can’t.

She was dishonest, in a way. The first thoughts she heard were somewhat confusing, and ambiguous. Musings about the cold air outside, and a feeling of exhaustion. She’d pitied that at first, but… then it all came to her like lightning, a cautious instant in which she took the time to listen- Just before she admitted it was him- And she knew it was _him_ , specifically because-

This wasn’t the first time she’d read his mind.

It was in the van. That was when she became concerned, the first time. Because she’d felt the tension emanating from him like small waves, his anger at something she couldn’t understand. She’d studied him, even as she listened to the ramblings coming from Wally. Because he was fascinating, in his own way. He was a complex mystery, and he was so tense and troubled that-

More clearly than anything else, she’d picked up a single word repeated over and over: _He_.

And now, in between his thoughts of being cold out there, and wondering why he’s still awake…

_Robin._

-

When he hears those quiet footsteps, he turns to look in their general direction, unable to let himself grow too concerned. After all, he was the trespasser. He was the miserable brat that rejected his ride home. It was his pride that kept him battling sleep in someone else’s front yard.

But just to be safe, he pulls out a single arrow; just in case.

And he’s targeting it in that distance, as he slowly recovers from his half-awake, half-asleep daze, blinking a few times to focus his eyes. But when he sees the figure emerge there, shiny hair catching the moonlight, and small body navigating through the trees hesitantly, he immediately lowers his bow.

His mind starts to race, when he realizes he has no idea of what to say. He has no idea of how to defend himself from this; no way without making himself vulnerable.

“Red,” Dick calls out, as he slowly moves closer, taking a look around to make sure he’s not missing any obvious details of the scene. It’s not long before he sees Roy there, but he takes his time before addressing him. He waits until he’s only a few feet away, coming to a full stop, “What are you up to?”

Roy takes in a deep breath, preparing to arrange some words and speak, but-

Dick cuts him off, “You didn’t go home?”

“It’s far away,” he admits. He puts on a tough exterior, “I figured I might as well stay here a couple hours, to get some energy for the trip.”

“You could’ve told me,” Dick whines, scolding him in his own way. “I’ve got a bike in there,” as he points to the mountain.

“I know.” He’s too proud to say anything else.

Dick allows his hand to fall naturally, as if he’s unsure of what to say. “Hey,” he hesitantly starts, as he leans forward slightly; Roy can’t resist the urge to back away from it. “Are you okay?”

“Of course,” he replies. “I just needed some rest.”

“You sure-”

“I’ll be going now,” he takes a few steps back, “But thanks for the concern.".

“Hey-” Dick tries.

But Roy’s leaving; he doesn’t even look back.

“Did you just…”

Roy pauses, as he stands still to listen. When he stops, he hears the distant chatter of crickets, almost as if they’re laughing at him.

“Did you just _thank_ me?” Dick almost laughs, but it’s more of a nervous tremor.

Roy shrugs, “Yeah. Not a big deal.”

“Dude,” Dick finally manages a decent laugh, “I don’t think you’ve ever done that. Something is _definitely_ wrong with you.”

Roy turns his back to him, choosing to end the conversation. “I’m fine,” he announces, “Now leave me alone.”

“Huh,” Dick finds it difficult to hide his reaction to that. He’s accustomed to his cold demeanor, but when he dismisses him like that, like he’s just some nobody- “Hey…”

But Roy’s already too far gone, his footsteps marching through the grass, his hands parting swaying tree branches. He’s too far away to hear anything Dick has to say.

And he watches him leave, standing there in silence. He idly clenches one of his hands into a fist, feeling frustration over something, but not completely understanding what. Some resentment or anger that’s too vague to make sense, and too hurt and confused to define itself. A sudden urge, like he wants to either yell or cry.

He doesn’t know what it means. But he doesn’t like it.

-

Robin, better known in his personal life as Dick Grayson, has always admired Roy Harper. It’s something about his spirit; his aggressiveness, his toughness. His strength. The fact that you could drop him into a room filled with bullies and monsters to the ceiling, and he wouldn’t even flinch. He’d observe the chaos, pull back an arrow, and get to work.

That’s the kind of man that Dick always thought he’d like to be. One day, when he was old enough to carry that kind of responsibility. When he was strong enough. When he could get mean enough. When he could be brave enough to worry less about sneaking and running and more about the fight. Roy could take a bullet and not even fall down; that was the impression he got, regardless of how true it was. That was his attitude.

But he’d noticed something strange. The more time he spent around him, the more he’d seen it happening. Something that contradicted that image of resilience: those unnerving sparks of heated emotion. Denial. Anxiety. Dishonesty. Secrecy. Defensiveness. Words Dick was never fond of. And more than anything else about them, he hated to apply them all to someone he considered his friend.

But he couldn’t really pretend he’d ever understood much about Roy. Every time he thought he’d figured him out, he’d do something else to throw him for a loop. He’d do something else that made his head cloudy, or his chest feel tight; under pressure, like it would collapse.

Something like…

Whenever he’d say something like _Leave me alone_ or _He doesn’t listen to anyone_. He wanted so badly to speak up and say, “I always listen to you,” but he was pretending to be asleep at the time, so that was impossible.

Something like that moment, when he was leaning against him, waiting for him to do something. Wanting more than just that brief contact, but knowing nothing more would ever come. Waiting for him to draw him in just a little more, waiting on him to say something personal and quiet, waiting for him to make some passing joke, something, _anything_ that was not full of resentment and hate.

Well, Roy doesn’t hate him. He knows better than to even think that. But when Roy doesn’t hate, the next best thing he embraces is tolerance. And tolerance is a long ways away from like, and it’s miles away from the kind of _like_ he’s interested in.

His kind of like is inappropriate. His kind of like involves touching, and contact, and feelings he’s probably too young to completely understand. But that doesn’t stop him from wanting to find out. That doesn’t stop him from being aware of the way Roy makes him feel, and the thrill he felt when he was able to slyly press his body against his without being pushed away.

A guy like Roy is too cynical for him. He’s too burdened with bitterness and anger and pride. He’s weary of the world, he’s hardened and he’s mean. He’s a brawler in a cage.

But he’s also considerate, and curious. He’s perceptive and intelligent. He’s passionate about what he believes in. He’s fiercely talented and swift and powerful. He’s protective and handsome and-

Way too old for him. Dick knows that. But-

Roy can match him in a battle of wits. He can outsmart him, move two steps ahead and genuinely make him feel like an idiot. He beats him to the punch, and when he wins their competitions, he doesn’t rub it in. He doesn’t gloat. He just states it and moves on, like it was the only logical outcome.

He’s an arrogant brat, that guy.

But Dick loves everything about that. Regardless of how attractive or impressive he is otherwise, Roy’s crafty intelligence makes him weak. It makes his stomach turn. It makes him eager to challenge him again, to fight a little harder and lose again, just to get that same feeling of being both defeated and inspired at the same time. To learn something new, to observe, to perceive, to push himself to do better.

But lately, he’s different. Ever since _Speedy_ became Red Arrow.

There’s no war. There’s no battle of the minds, only a distant spark of fire before it’s quickly buried and suppressed. There’s almost no feedback. His few words became even more sparse. His sentences got even shorter.

And in the days since their encounter outside Mount Justice that night, he hasn’t even come around to talk. He doesn’t even visit anymore.

He doesn’t visit _him_ anymore.

And no matter how he tried to reason with her, Megan wouldn’t say anything. She didn’t say a word. All she’d ever say is, “It’s too personal.” Too personal- A thought that kept Roy awake and sitting outside their place, looking like he’d lost his way, and seeming nothing but bewildered and anxious when he’d approached him. Too personal.

Fearful and anxious; the same man that knew he was leaning against him for all that time in the van, and let it happen. The same man that gently held him by the shoulders, and carefully moved him back in place, only after Wally disturbed their shared moment.

Wally. He wanted to hit him, sometimes. He never would, but that didn’t stop the impulse from becoming distractingly strong every now and then. He had a way of interrupting important things. It was part of his charm, but that was a double-edged sword.

But who was he kidding. This was Roy, of all people.

A man like Roy wouldn’t waste his time with an irritating _baby_ like him. Roy had more important things to do. More important people to meet. He was entering an entirely different world. He was practically running into it, headfirst.

Headfirst, he was running away from them.

Dick sighs. Megan overhears it, but as usual, she says nothing. Because she knows why he’s upset. And she knows what she still cannot do.

Since that day, she’s known better than to casually enter anyone’s mind. She wasn’t completely surprised by what she’d found in Roy’s consciousness; she was unprepared for the pain. She was unprepared for his grief.

She knew better than to investigate that deeply again. Never again, outside of a mission. Maybe the humans had a good point. Maybe some secrets just needed to remain secret.

-

But just when Dick is starting to lose faith, there he appears. There he is, one stormy afternoon.

He wasn’t going to say anything. Because that was the golden rule Batman had instilled in him, from day one: never reveal your identity. But here he was, dressed in a blue hoodie and dark jeans, browsing the record store when in walked a very calm, stoic Roy.

It’s not a complete surprise. He’s far outside Gotham, so it’s not an impossible occurrence. Any day out in this part of town, he’d sooner expect to run into Wally, than this guy. He would’ve preferred it, actually. At least with Wally, he knows how to act. He’s familiar enough with him to know how he should approach the situation. But Wally’s just gone home, and he’s completely alone to face this unexpected surprise.

Thinking quickly, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his sunglasses. It’s a cheap move, but Batman would kill him—alright, not literally but he’d make him regret it—if he revealed his identity over something as trivial as this. Even to a fellow superhero…

Who may not want his _own_ identity compromised.

“Crap,” he murmurs to himself, as he slides them on. But even though he doesn’t intend for it to happen-

He gets Roy’s attention.

After a brief look of surprise, Roy sets a cd back onto the shelf, and quietly waltzes over.

“Hi,” Dick nervously says, with a half-wave as Roy comes to stand before him. Slender blue jeans, and a faded t-shirt. An open jacket that’s black and red. He’s effortlessly cool; cool and tall, and as Dick takes in the view, it only makes him feel even more anxious than he did initially.

Roy’s face. Roy’s face is…

“Hey,” in that low voice, calm as usual. Reserved.

Without that mask, Roy’s face is…

Dick has to avert his eyes. “You been doing okay?”

“I’ve been tired,” Roy admits. He rests a hand against a nearby shelf, “but I can handle it.”

“You seem busy,” Dick suggests, involuntarily shrugging his shoulders as he balances himself onto one foot. It helps to alleviate some of his nervousness.

Roy takes a quick glance to his legs, as if noticing that; it makes Dick feel uneasy, so he quickly sets both feet back flat on the ground. And when Roy looks back up towards him, Dick’s once again losing his focus in the view of that _crazy_ attractive face. Roy has a set of sharp, intimidating eyes that could kill, but it’d be one hell of a great way to die.

“Robin,” Roy finally murmurs.

“Yeah,” Dick laughs, a small giggle.

“With sunglasses… indoors,” Roy tilts his head quizzically.

It all makes Dick feel very, increasingly embarrassed. “You know, _identity_?” he makes air quotes with his fingers.

“Right,” Roy nods.

 _Why is this so awkward_ , Dick’s frowning to himself. He ventures, “You don’t care about any of that, huh?”

Roy pauses, and with a calm look, “Not really.” He manages a slight grin, “But I like the outfit.”

“Oh, thank-” he stops suddenly. “I mean- _you mean_ your Red clothes-”

Roy chuckles faintly, his chest shaking silently, “I meant your outfit.”

Dick pauses. He bows his head, as he starts to realize there’s a ticking clock to this conversation, and he is perilously close to overstaying his intrusion into Roy’s daily life.

But Roy is always one step ahead. Sometimes in an entirely different direction than he expects.

“Hey,” as he stands up entirely straight, and looks down at him from that great height, “You wanna do something.”

“Yeah, sure,” he almost sounds too eager, so he shrugs ambivalently. “I mean, it’s been a while…”

“I’m sorry,” Roy apologizes almost with haste. He’s holding something back, but as always his face is dead calm.

Outside, a sudden jolt of thunder rattles the walls of the building. A few of the roaming customers look around, as if wondering where the noise came from. But it’s no mystery to Dick, once he looks outside. Against the windows, rain is slamming against them, crashing almost hard enough to break the glass. When did that start? How did he not notice…

“We can see a movie,” Roy suggests, looking towards the windows as he follows his gaze, watching the rain. “I’ll run you to the theatre.”

“You’ll _run_ me?” Dick smirks. “I don’t recall you having Flash powers…”

“I’ll carry you,” Roy says, his face showing no evidence of his blatant joke, “So you don’t drown.”

“What,” Dick contorts his face into a grimace.

Roy shrugs, turning to look at him again. “I might lose you out there.”

At this point, Dick’s feeling that familiar stirring inside his chest. It wasn’t a compliment, but it almost sounded like one. He said that in a kind of endearing, almost affectionate way…

“So you in, or not,” Roy redirects his attention to the subject at hand.

“Sure.” He smirks, “But I can walk.”

“Fine,” Roy acknowledges, as he idly comments, “Just let me buy something first.”

But Dick’s not listening anymore. Not that closely.

Because as he stands there, listening to the rain and the murmuring of various conversations and people talking about the rain and about each other, he’s also watching Roy make his way back through the store. He’s watching him examine the same cd case he had in his hands before, before making his way to the cash register. He’s watching him, with his tall legs and his sculpted body and his rough short hair and his broad shoulders-

And he’s starting to realize that he’s about to run to a theatre with him, through a blizzard of freezing rain. Where he will sit, merely some inches beside him, in the dark, for two uninterrupted hours.

Oh, crap.

-

From the moment they step outside, Roy’s overcome with the scent of heavy mist and broken water. He takes a deep breath in, and turns to look behind him. At first, he sees nothing; but at a glance just a little ways down, there he is. Tiny little Robin.

He stops, remaining still as he waits for him to catch up. He’s not sure what caused the delay, but he’s not bothered by it. In truth he’s much too preoccupied with the reality of what’s about to happen.

He can’t believe he did that. He can’t believe he did that. Because did he just-

Did he seriously just-

He’s putting on his usual look of calm and composure, but the truth is that he’s feeling vulnerable and tense. He can feel something breaking inside him. Because he’s realizing that yes, he did. He asked this kid out on a date, and he’s so damn naïve that he probably didn’t even notice. That’s what he gets for doing this. That’s what he gets for putting a move on someone that shouldn’t be on his radar. With someone his age, it’s just indecent. It’s just manipulative and ultimately it would be too easy to coerce him into whatever he wanted.

But…

But he’d never do that. He’d never thought to push him into anything. He’d never considered that he could ask him out so easily, that he could lead him along as much as he wanted, that he could probably kiss him and get away with it. He could play it cool and put some pressure on him, he could manipulate his sympathies for him, he could dominate and push him into doing almost anything.

But he never would. What he wanted, was something mutual. It would have to be mutual, or nothing at all. Because he’d rather suffer in silence, than to steal a kiss that wasn’t genuine. He didn’t need to put a move on some kid for physical affection. He’d never had a shortage of that. What he wanted was something more serious…

Something to fuel the fire, that feeling that made his heart shake whenever he stood near him. 

He’d never been the kind of guy to do something like this. He was a ladies’ man. He chased tall girls with several years on Robin and more experience. He flirted with women that were sometimes twice his age. But this…

There was something different about this kid. Something that made him feel awake for the first time in years. His affection for him wasn’t born of shallow lust, or some abstract want. It was a need, a startling sensation that he’d been incomplete, and wanted to be whole for the first time. That he wanted that warmth, that joy; that laughter, that smile. He wanted his love, and not because he felt he deserved it. He didn’t. He just wanted it.

In his mind, there was nothing all that amazing or special about himself, but there was plenty that was amazing and incredible about him. And no matter how selfish it was, he wanted what he wanted. But he was hoping against hope that somehow, in some way, the feeling could become mutual.

He didn’t come here with the intention to ask him out. But was it convenient? Yes. It was more of a magical coincidence. Rare as it was for him to not track someone down himself, he’d decided to let Fate handle this one.

The rain is thundering around them. Dick is hugging himself for warmth, already feeling the cold draft. “Geez, how far is it?” he asks, peering around Roy’s tall body to try and catch a look down the street.

Roy glances in that direction nonchalantly, and says back, “Around five minutes down the road.”

“Can we run it, then?” Dick asks sheepishly.

“I said I’d carry you-”

“No,” he frowns back.

Roy laughs a little, mostly to hide his disappointment. But that was alright. He’d just have to take this one step slower.

But that doesn’t stop him from establishing some helpful contact. Dick’s entire body freezes up, when Roy reaches towards him, his fingers taking hold of the boy’s smaller hand. But that hand does not withdraw. It does not pull back. And surprised as he is, he does all he can to not let any of his amazement show. He murmurs, “Ready…”

Dick looks at him anxiously, a grin sneaking onto his face.

“Go.”

-

Water splashing up beneath their feet, clothes being soaked with heavy rain that gets in their eyes as they dash around and between startled onlookers with open umbrellas and water-speckled raincoats. The sound of their footsteps, hurried and heavy, Roy’s startling jump over a particularly large puddle, only to have Dick land in it and shout in protest. Dick’s high-pitched laughter, as the theatre sign comes into view, and the frantic speed of Roy’s heart as he looks up ahead, navigating them through the curtain of steady rain.

The sudden halt, when he comes to a full stop some feet away from the doors, just beneath the entrance. His exhaled sigh to steady his breath, a smile lingering on his face when Dick stops just beside him, almost giggling to himself, even as he’s shaking from the cold. Roy’s blurred vision that gets sharper, as he blinks and takes a look at the boy standing beside him.

And the lingering sensation of Dick’s hand, still holding his.

-

“Ah, geez,” Dick’s hugging himself again, as he lets out a violent shake. “I knew I should’ve worn a coat today,” as they’re taking their seats in the illuminated theatre. A soft glow of ambient lights, and the faint chorus of elevator music. They were a bit early for the next show, but early was better than rushing in to catch a late one. Roy didn’t even want to see this movie, but he was in no mood to complain.

“Yeah,” Roy sits down as he’s wiping at his face with a napkin; the water from his wet hair continues to drip down the sides of his face.

Dick takes a sideways look, “Man, it’s like you’re bleeding.”

“That’s an interesting comparison,” he remarks calmly, as he leans forward to slide off his jacket. Dick’s watching him in silence, hoping it’s not too obvious as his eyes become fixated on the view of his arms being revealed in the process; bare arms that are wet and shiny and-

Dick can’t help it; he reaches out and touches one of them.

Roy immediately pauses, looking at him curiously. Dick doesn’t say much, but he manages, “How did you get so huge-”

“What,” Roy grins a little.

“You were like, scrawny. You were small like me, once.”

“Were you even around for that,” that grin starts to spread.

“I met you like, right before _this_ happened,” he pokes that arm with a single finger, to make his contact appear comedic in motive. Even though it wasn’t.

“You were like, 5.”

Dick frowns at him.

Roy laughs.

It feels strange to hear that sound. Largely because Roy’s laugh is a sound Dick had assumed he’d never hear again. It’d been months, if not years since the last time he’d collapsed into a fit of laughter. He’d laughed so hard he cried, and seeing him the way he was now, this serious and cool, the difference was hard to believe.

Roy was a kid too, once. Roy was immature and playful. Roy told jokes. Roy told jokes like, _You were 5, You’re so tiny, move so I don’t step on you_ , and-

“You _do_ like me,” Dick realizes.

“What,” Roy comes to a complete pause, as if he’s afraid to move or say another word.

“You like me,” Dick points to himself for emphasis, “Like, you’re my friend,” he backpedals it fast, hightailing it to make certain he doesn’t imply anything too risky or bold, “You like my company.”

“Yeah,” Roy gives a slow nod.

“Cool,” Dick says, with a nod of his own.

And beyond that, he doesn’t respond.

Meanwhile, Roy’s staring at him with a look that could strip paint off a wall. But then he bites his lip, and leans back to sit into the chair normally. He turns his attention to the screen, but there’s nothing to look at yet. Nothing but flashy commercial slides, pictures with text imposed over them.

He starts to tremble a little, some nervous rumble that starts in his leg and spreads to the rest of his body. He sighs to release some of the tension, but he ignores Dick’s curious glance at him. Because he can’t really stop what’s happening. He can’t stop shaking, because it’s _that_ again. That wave of guilt and confusion, that flicker of doubt that says maybe he’s wrong about everything, no, maybe he’s _really_ wrong and everything he’s doing is immoral and selfish and manipulative and he needs to just fake a phone call and say he’s gotta go, and get the hell out of here before he does something absolutely foolish. Something foolish, like…

Even though he keeps looking at the screen, he takes hold of Dick’s hand. It’s still slightly damp from rainwater, and more cold than he anticipated. So without thinking, he finds himself stroking it with his thumb, gradually curving his fingers around each of the boy’s own to warm it up again.

Dick says nothing; he just looks over, and stares at him. But Roy’s not looking back. He just continues to breathe deeply and slow, as he leans back against the headrest and closes his eyes.

-

The movie screen lights up. Sound booms into the theatre; Roy’s opening his eyes-

To the sensation of hands on his face, and a light and gentle weight sprawled across his lap. Roy tilts his head up, and seems to instantly confront… warmth. The gentle touch of cautious fingers trailing beneath his eyes, and a light pressure against his mouth as he catches his breath. His eyes completely open at last, and it takes a few seconds to register that the soft, reassuring massage against his lips is the persistent contact of someone else’s; someone else’s gentle tongue sliding between them, the heat of someone else’s breath mingling with his own as he parts his lips further, allowing that kiss to deepen.

And it’s only when he starts to return it, his tongue doing some exploring of his own, that he realizes what exactly is going on. He expresses his surprise with a faint gasp, but instead of pulling back, he battles the sudden urge to get deeper, and closer. His hands find their way to the body perched above his legs, that slender and lean chest, and he slides his fingers beneath the heavy fabric of his clothes, feeling the reactive shudder as he touches the boy’s cold skin.

He can barely believe it. Truthfully, he can’t believe it. But he’s not running away this time. He’s stroking his fingers across the boy’s waist, as his hands drift to his back. He holds him there firmly as he continues to kiss him, pausing only to breathe before leaning back in to kiss those soft lips, and that’s when he catches sight of his eyes-

His bare face, for the first time. Completely unadorned, and, even in this dark room of flashing light and heavy shadows, more beautiful than any he’d ever seen. Maybe it’s because he feels _this_ way about him, but he loves everything about that image; his eyes are dark and expressive, and his soft mouth is accented by a perfectly subtle nose and an almost feminine jaw. The look he’s sending is loaded with some thinly veiled sort of desire, and even as he sits in his lap, there’s a noticeable heat developing between them, as he’s pressing their bodies closer together-

And when Dick leans forward to continue that kiss, running a hand up his jaw with some determination and a sense of possession, Roy’s gasping into his mouth as his other hand travels, down his chest and straight to the particularly hot crotch of his jeans; a gasp almost drowned out by the sound of explosions and car wheels squealing across the screen up ahead.

He pauses, and has to break off the kiss, murmuring into the boy’s ear, “We shouldn’t.”

Dick sends him an irritated look, his eyes frowning in a sort of a grimace.

“Okay," Roy asks considerately, as he runs a reassuring hand down his back one more time, before removing both of them from his body.

Dick nods, and detaches himself with a faint sigh, as he settles back into his seat.

And it’s around now that Roy is aware of something that is particularly inconveniencing-

Dick leans over and asks him in a faint voice, a near whisper into his ear, “Why not?”

Another explosion, and an actor shouting at the audience.

Roy takes a slight glance at the screen, and once a sudden car crash starts to unfold, he takes one of Dick’s hands, and guides it to his groin, where he lightly presses his fingers against an erection that is so hard, it’s straining against his jeans. And he says into his ear, “I’ll get carried away.”

Dick can’t reply. He withdraws his hand politely, but the flush on his face is too distracting for him to even think of the right words for that.

-

This is bad. This is really bad.

Dick’s suppressing a moan as he bites into the skin at his shoulder, attempting to steady himself by holding tightly onto Roy’s chest, his hands digging into his back.

This stall is really not big enough for the two of them. But there’s little choice now…

Roy’s panting to himself, trying to resist the temptation to moan out loud, chewing on his bottom lip as he frowns to himself, frowning with every rush of pleasure that spikes through him. And he works his right hand furiously, using his strong fingers to press and stroke their two cocks together, hot and heated and sore, stroking and pressing and jacking them so fast and hard that it starts to hurt. But it’s the good kind of ache. The right kind of ache.

With his other hand, he’s stroking the base of Dick’s neck, because he’s realized that it’s a sensitive spot for him. When he presses down especially hard, it makes him whine. And when Dick looks up at him, panting with a face flushed with pleasure and excitement, Roy uses his mouth to close the space between them, sliding his tongue between eager lips that part willingly for him.

And he starts to feel that hot breath rapidly increasing; Dick’s moaning into his mouth as he feels his body starting to stiffen. Soon. He jacks him off even harder, focusing special attention to the boy’s swollen cock, using his fingers to explore and caress every spare inch he can reach. And Dick whines one more time, a genuine whine that’s broken and fragmented, as Roy feels the hot sensation of something wet and warm falling gently onto his hand; but he doesn’t stop. He keeps going, keeps going until his fingers are dripping with the boy’s cum. He keeps going, because it fuels his own arousal, and as the boy’s body starts to relax and lean into him more, all he can coherently think is that _Oh my God, I just made him come_ and _Oh my God, I’m going to Hell._

He’s kissing Dick’s face, with a series of soft, gentle kisses that quickly become more erotic, as he tastes various different places; he tastes the soft spot beneath his eyes, he licks along his jaw, he sucks on his lips. He kisses his chin, and even leans in to reach beneath his neck as Dick tilts his head back, breathing slowly and deeply as if feeling a kind of contentedness that transcends everything else.

And he’s kissing and caressing that neck as he comes, closing his eyes as he lets that pleasure run through him, allows himself to get lost in the sensation of being here right now, here like _this_. He thinks of his naked skin, and his smooth chest; he thinks of his delicate arms and his agile legs and his flushed face. He thinks of his whine when he came, and the bruise he’s definitely left by chewing so aggressively into his shoulder. He thinks of the way he tastes, as he licks his neck one last time - slowly all the way up - as his orgasm dies down in silence.

He’s steadying his breath as he withdraws his hand, reaching over to the toilet paper rack and clumsily pulling a few sheets off. He’s gently cleaning them up, caressing Dick’s body in the process, his smooth thighs, his softening cock. And the instant he’s removed the most of the mess, he crumples up the tissues, drops them somewhere on the floor and leans his face against the boy’s chest. He’s able to hear his steady heartbeat as he relaxes for the first time in what feels like days.

Roy winds his arms around that slender body, and kisses that smooth chest before he pulls back. He looks at him and asks, “Did you like it.”

Dick doesn’t respond; not right away. He just nods, and finally manages a, “Yeah,” that’s accompanied with a tired smile. “I like _you_.”

Roy just nods, “I like you too.” He kisses him on the face, and closes his eyes for a moment. He gives a tired sigh, almost as if it causes him pain, “I really do.”

Dick doesn’t know what to say. He just leans into his strong arms, and buries his face against his neck. All he can manage is a murmured, “yeah,” but he wants to say so much more than that.

They both do. But now, there’s time. There will be time for that.

-

He holds his hand for most of the way back home. Understandably, Dick can’t reveal exactly where he lives, but he agreed to at least let Roy accompany him back to the edge of Gotham. And when the high peak of Wayne Tower comes into view he lets out a sigh, because he knows this is where they’ll separate.

Roy realizes it too. And he willingly lets go, with a subtle smile as he looks down at him in silence. He seems prepared to leave, taking a glance around as if to idly fill some time until he figures out what he has left to say.

“Come visit me sometime,” Dick says. “Soonish.”

“I’ll be around,” he nods.

Dick seems a tad nervous as he reaches his arms up, as if ready to embrace the air. Roy gives him a puzzled look, before he leans down and meets him halfway, pulling him into a firm embrace.

And as Roy’s pulling back, Dick quickly steals a kiss.

Roy looks at him with some surprise, a look that turns into a subtle smile. “I’ll see you later, Rob.”

“Dick,” he says.

“What?” he pauses curiously.

“My name is Dick,” he says quietly. “But don’t tell everybody,” as he playfully leans forward.

“Richard,” as he lifts an eyebrow.

“Just Dick,” he frowns.

Roy nods again, “Okay," Roy nods. "See you _soonish_ ,” with a slow wave, as he makes the difficult move to turn away.

“Bye, Roy,” he cheerfully replies, with a similar wave that’s equal parts happy and melancholy.

When Roy vanishes from view, there’s only him standing there, alone in the middle of a busy street corner. There’s only a small boy in the middle of all these people, faces he doesn’t recognize as he puts his sunglasses back on, and turns to walk the rest of the way home.

In a way, he feels like he’s just lost something very important. He feels an ache he’s never fully known before.

But he just hugs himself and he keeps walking.

-

It’s a quiet evening at Mount Justice. The team’s assembled, but they find themselves with a night off. It wasn’t supposed to be, but after much pleading from Wally, Dick tugged on some heartstrings and got Batman to agree to let them take it easy for one day.

Batman knew he was being manipulated. But he didn’t like being too cruel, because kids will be kids. And sometimes kids need a well-earned break.

“Movie niiiight,” Megan's exclaiming, as she jumps back into the couch. She’s doing a sort of dance, flailing her arms for a few seconds, until she notices that everyone’s staring at her. “I’m excited,” she explains, with a half-anxious smile. “I’ve never seen a movie before.”

“Really?” Wally’s jaw drops, as he pulls out—and nearly drops—a bag of instant popcorn.

Dick laughs, “You’re gonna love this one. It’s got sharks in it."

“Ah, that sounds scary,” she whines, giving him a worried look.

“It’s actually quite funny,” Kaldur comments, as he takes a seat at the far end of the sofa, “and definitely not a serious movie.”

“Yeah, we wouldn’t do that to you,” Wally winks at her, as he strolls into the kitchen.

Dick’s rolling his eyes, as he notices Artemis strolling in and changes his tune. “Hey, you made it,” he says.

“Yeah, figured I should stop by,” she smiles, as the others turn to look at her. “Hey guys.”

“Hello Artemis,” Kaldur is the most generous, so she takes a seat not too far away from him. She sends a special look in Superboy's direction, but he does his best to ignore her.

Meanwhile, Wally’s asking from the kitchen, as he waltzes out with a handful of popcorn in one hand and a soda in the other, “She actually came?”

Dick calls back, “Yeah-”

“She’s gonna make him mad,” Wally answers back.

Dick’s calling back, “What-” as he’s interrupted by a sudden voice from a few rooms over-

“RECOGNIZED. RED ARROW. B.0.6.”

They hear his footprints from down the hall, and Artemis lets out an involuntary groan, “Why’d you have to invite _him_?”

“He’s my bro,” Wally appears beside them as he protests, “Unlike _you_.”

“Yeah, cause I’m a _girl_ ,” she quips back.

“We get it,” Dick throws his hands up. He doesn’t dwell on the amount of awkwardness that’s about to happen. He doesn’t. He won’t. “Did he know she was coming?” he asks cynically, in Wally’s general direction.

Wally shrugs back, “Yeah.”

Kaldur observes, "Maybe he is feeling more tolerant?”

“I’m not,” his voice startles them, as he appears in the doorway. He’s carrying a backpack in one hand, dragging it loosely by his side as he strolls in, clarifying, “Thought I should make an appearance.”

“And hang with us,” Wally celebrates, smiling playfully.

“Sure,” Roy frowns a little.

“Hey,” Megan suddenly realizes, “No mask.”

“I’m not hiding anything,” he shrugs, handing the bag to Wally, as the kid rushes over to greet him with a brief hit on the shoulder, to which Roy gives a neutral look. “And neither are you guys,” as he glances back to the others.

“It’s a casual day,” Megan shrugs and smiles.

But he doesn’t respond back to her. He’s being distracted; from the moment he notices Dick standing there. He can’t help it; there’s a slight tug at the corner of his lips, a hint of a smile. Dick’s hesitant to return one, but before he has to worry about that, Roy resumes his signature look of neutrality as he follows Wally into the kitchen.

Dick hears them talking together, and taking a glance back, he notices Wally’s sudden change in mood. He’s even more spry than usual, hyper and talking faster than normal. And Roy’s nodding, as he opens a bag of chips and nonchalantly pours them into a bowl.

Not completely thinking straight, Dick walks up to them.

“So don’t worry about her, right?” Wally’s saying, as Roy turns to look in his direction. Wisely, he doesn’t respond. He just murmurs a, “Yeah,” and idly fidgets with the bowl, as if buying some time.

“Alright, ready!” Wally exclaims. “I uh-” he turns around, popcorn bucket in hand, and greets Dick, “Hey Rob, help me set up.”

“What’s there to do?” Dick asks, giving him a slight smirk, “You’re just putting a bowl down.”

“Yeah, but we’re gonna start soon,” he whines.

“Hold on,” Dick raises a hand, dismissing him with a wave. “Hold your horses.”

“He never stops them,” Roy murmurs.

“Hey!” Wally calls back, as he’s leaving the room, “I heard that.”

Roy just shakes his head, and he exhales slowly, while the room is filled with a new silence. But it doesn’t last long. Dick says quickly, “I won’t do anything weird, but-”

“Come here,” Roy says quietly, as he looks at him directly.

Dick doesn’t say anything; he just moves. He comes to stand beside him hesitantly, almost as if he’s afraid. “Didn’t think you’d drop by,” he admits.

“I wasn’t planning to,” Roy says.

Dick laughs a little, “Then why-”

Roy interrupts him with a kiss, a quick and silent pressure against his mouth. Immediately, Dick feels something relax inside him, his tension dissolving, his mood lighter somehow. 

He turns back to the bowl to avoid being suspicious, should anyone get curious about their silence. “Come on,” he nods to Dick.

“Yeah, yeah,” Dick starts to move towards the doorway, without protest.

But before they step out of the room, Roy pauses, leans in and asks in a low murmur, “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Dick nods, “Totally ‘set.”

-

Roy’s laughing. What a magical sound. He’s laughing so hard that he can’t stop crying. And every time the girl on the screen shrieks again, he laughs even louder.

Megan is staring at him as if completely perplexed, but Wally’s laughing at how much he’s laughing and even Dick can’t help but to react a little.

“Uh oh, Rob’s _giggling_ ,” Wally teases.

“What are you guys even laughing at?” Artemis rolls her eyes.

“It’s funny!” Wally defends them. Mainly he’s trying to defend Roy, but Roy’s too busy shaking and emitting strange noises to explain anything. From his perch above on the couch, Dick tosses a pillow down to where Roy’s lounging on the floor. Roy picks it up, and presses it over his face to muffle the sound. But as his body continues to shake, Wally’s laughing again, and even Superboy manages a smirk at how ridiculous it all is.

And finally, Roy’s coming back to sanity. He makes a few muffled noises, a few half-laughs as he breathes deeply, and waits. Dick leans over, peering down, “You okay?”

But that only makes Roy laugh again.

“What the _hell_ ,” Wally’s eyes are widening.

“What does that mean?” Megan asks him.

“Oh, uh-” Wally stammers.

Dick smirks, “He cursed.”

“Did not,” Wally insists.

“I would deem it a curse,” Kaldur answers solemnly.

But then Roy finally manages to talk, as he tosses the pillow back on the couch, nearly hitting Wally in the process, “No, it’s not.”

“You guys, I’m trying to watch a _movie_ here,” Artemis turns around and glares at them.

Wally sticks his tongue out at her, but she just turns her back on him. In protest, he says nothing, but he does grab another handful of popcorn.

Meanwhile, Roy returns to normal, staring up at nothing in particular; so it seemed, until Dick happens to glance down, to notice that he’s looking directly at him. Dick doesn’t visibly react, but he does maintain that look for a short time, just long enough to return the gesture. He doesn’t understand all of these signals Roy keeps sending; he doesn’t fully understand what they mean, but he knows they feel pleasant and reassuring. He just isn’t sure why.

But in a way, it hurts. Because he’s starting to hate the distance between them.

Wally’s shuffling around on the couch, and with that noise, Roy turns his attention back to the screen. And when Dick happens to glance at Wally, he’s giving him a vaguely confused look, like he’s noticed something he shouldn’t have. To avoid a confrontation, Dick clenches his jaw to keep his mouth shut, and turns his attention back to the movie.

A little while later, Roy was laughing again. But more normally this time. He was even able to talk, as he pointed to the screen and said, “What is she _doing_?”

Wally’s voice is breaking up with laughter of his own, “She’s trying to run back, stupid-”

And Dick has the perfect answer, “She’s trying to run out of this movie.”

Wally exclaims a, “ha," at that, and Roy just starts to laugh again.

Megan scolds them, “You guys! That’s mean,” with a smile on her face.

And for now, everything has a way of seeming all right with the world. There might be some stress later. Dick knows that. He’s not a fool.

But for now…

Roy’s laughing, and it is just the most beautiful sound.

-

When Roy leaves, Dick walks out with him. It’s a little blatant, but he makes the excuse that Batman’s calling, and that he has to go home. And Roy, wise and sensible as he is, doesn’t act like there could be any ulterior motive.

Dick knows Wally is going to be suspicious.

But what little concern he has is quickly erased once they arrive outside. Because when Roy wraps his arms around him and pulls him close, he has a way of forgetting that he was ever concerned about anything.

And when he kisses him, there’s nothing on his mind except him.

“I’m glad you came,” he says, “But could you come by more often?”

Roy calmly replies, “How often.”

“Like, uh, I don’t know,” as they make their way out towards the boats at the shore, “More than once in a blue moon?”

“I can do two days a week,” he murmurs. “Maybe three.”

“Three?” he stares up at him with wide eyes.

Roy looks down, meeting that stare, “What?”

“You’d do that for me?” Dick is in disbelief.

Roy murmurs casually, “I’d do anything for you.”

Dick’s too stunned to reply back. It’s not just what he said, but… It’s the relaxed way that he said it.

When Roy reaches the shore, where the sand meets the water, he realizes that Dick’s not there with him. He looks back, and he’s still making his way over to him, walking slowly. When he finally reaches where Roy is, he looks as if he wants to speak, but… The words aren’t coming.

So instead he simply reaches out with open arms, embracing him at the nearest point he can reach, sliding his arms around his chest. Roy gives a half-sigh, and reaches around Dick’s waist, placing firm hands just beneath his ribcage as he hoists him up, lifting him into his arms as the boy willingly collapses and leans against him, arms draped over his shoulders, face pressed against his neck. And he holds him like something precious, Dick’s legs dangling just off the ground as Roy turns in and kisses his face.

And he just holds, and holds onto him. He breathes in the scent of his clothes, and he lingers in the faint sensation of the boy’s heartbeat against his chest. He closes his eyes, and just listens to the sound of the waves crashing behind them as he sways slightly, his strong arms doing all they can to hold onto and support that weight for as long as he can.

Dick kisses his face.

And when he does, Roy starts to feel like everything is right in the world.

Even it isn’t. It doesn't matter.

-

But there’s always some amount of trouble in paradise.

Wally’s reacting. Dick knew he would. He waited a day or two to breach the subject, but he knew it was coming. Ever since he saw them during the movie, and happened to follow them out onto the beach- And seriously, who _does_ that anyway-

“Look, I get it, okay?” Wally’s groaning, as he reclines back against a tree outside, during a rare moment of downtime during their work hours, “He was your first kiss. Those are always fun.”

Dick doesn’t say anything. He’s busying himself with looking out into the ocean, as his eyes wander to around where the boats are. When he thinks of the moment he shared with Roy there, he starts to smile to himself.

Wally’s doing what he can. He’s doing what he thinks is right. Dick knows that. He’s doing his best. But this is just something he does not understand. He’s sure Wally’s liked someone before. So that’s not the problem. So he’s not entirely sure where his objection comes from…

“I mean, this whole thing is kinda stupid and random anyway, right,” Wally shrugs at him.

“No, it wasn’t-"

“And I’m sure that, if given the chance with some really hot chick, you’d do the same thing-”

“If Roy was a girl,” he remarks, with a grin on his face. “Yeah, I’d totally…” he trails off suspiciously.

Wally shakes his head. “What is it with that guy, anyway?”

“What, like, the appeal?”

“Yeah, that,” Wally crosses his arms. In the distance, a stray bird calls out, as if mocking him. He gives a funny look into the sky, as if he’s offended.

“Um,” he takes a minute to think. The automatic response that comes to mind seems inappropriate, so he opts for a more genuine, respectable answer. “You know like, what I’m always saying about feeling the aster, and the whelm, all that stuff?”

“Yeah, you dork,” Wally smirks, and raises an eyebrow at him.

“Well it’s like…” he feels a familiar blush spread across his face, “It’s all those put together. I’m super whelmed and completely full of aster and totally ‘set.”

“Set?” Wally frowns.

“You know, like... if _upset_ is to be angry, I’m thinking _set_ is the opposite.”

“Why can’t you just say _happy_ or something…”

“Because that’s not the same thing.”

“…What,” Wally protests.

“ _Set_ means I’m completely free of anger. Totally different.”

“Yeah, okay.” Wally decides to let that one go, “You can have that one.”

Wally interrupts his thoughts, “Like, seriously. What’s so great about him?”

“Roy?”

“Yeah, _Roy_. Why him?”

Dick frowns at him, “Why ask me? I thought you were his _bro_.”

“Uh, yeah,” Wally nervously scratches his neck. “But I wouldn’t date him.”

An awkward moment of silence, as Dick’s not sure if he should be offended.

“B-because I’m not gay,” Wally hastily corrects himself, “He’s great. I mean-”

Dick laughs a little.

“But I guess… he’s good-looking?” Wally grimaces, feeling embarrassed at his own comment.

“He’s a total _babe_ ,” Dick sighs.

“Whoa, hold on.”

“What?”

“Have you ever called _anyone_ that before?”

“Um. I don’t know…”

“It sounds weird.”

“I like it,” he shrugs.

“Sounds too much like _baby_ -”

“That one's not bad.”

“ _What_ ,” Wally sends him a look of horror, even going so far as to stand up straight and veer in to face him directly.

“What?”

“Are you kidding? You hate being called that-”

“Yeah, when someone thinks I’m like, a little kid. I don’t mind being someone’s…”

“…Urgh..” Wally starts to shudder.

“You know…”

“ _Yeah_ , I get it.”

“Sorry,” he shrugs; his apology isn’t genuine, but it’s polite.

“No, it’s just,” he attempts to explain himself, “I’m thinking of you, and Spee- Red Arrow and it’s just… urgh.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay. I mean, I need to grow up. It’s just kissing, I mean, people do that _all_ the time-”

“No, it’s kinda… not.”

“What?” his jaw drops.

“We, uh… It’s more than that.” He’s saying too much. He knows that, but somehow he can’t help it. In a way, he’s excited and he just wants to tell somebody somehow. And that somebody might as well be Wally. He could trust Wally.

But Wally’s eyes are growing wide with a gradually spreading horror. “How? It’s not like…” he trails off, as he stiffens up and shudders, “Wait… Did you…”

Dick bites his lip, before commenting, “Sort of?”

“What? Wait a second-”

“ _And_ now I’m giving you too much info.”

“What-”

“Open mouth, insert foot here.”

“ _Please_ , can we not talk about mouths or feet-”

“Or naked bodies,” Dick smirks.

“Eww,” Wally cringes.

“Sorry,” he suppresses a laugh behind his hand.

“Seriously? You done traumatizing me?”

“Yeah, really.”

“But _why_?” he tries the question one last time. He even lowers his voice, as if discussing a secret, “Why him.”

Dick gives him a blank look, as if it’s second nature. As if it’s something Wally should already know. He gives a slight shrug. “I just… like him. I really, really,” as his eyes trail away-

“Alright, alright-”

“-really like him.”

For once, Wally doesn’t have a smart reply, or a funny comment to that. He just gives him a concerned look, as if he’s realizing something important for the first time. At the end of his thinking process he murmurs a solemn, “Yeah. I get it.”

But in truth, he’s thinking that it’s pretty bizarre. Among many, many other things.

Other things he didn’t want to admit, or think about anymore.

-

Megan’s the first to notice Wally’s sour mood. Even during their mission, he doesn’t act abnormal, but he’s not his usual self, either. He’s irritated when he shouldn’t be. He’s not engaging in small talk. He’s not even teasing the bad guys like usual, either.

He’s not even flirting with her, and that’s when she really knows something’s gone awry.

She’s tempted to read his mind for answers, but she remembers what happened the last time she did that to someone…

But she can’t help but feel like she’s missing the story. During their movie night last week, she encountered certain members of her team as she’d never seen them before. Wally’s spirits were high, but he was reserved somehow. Almost like he was insecure. She would take a guess that he was reacting differently because Spee-no, _Red Arrow_ was around. 

Whatever was bothering Red Arrow in the days before, his stress was completely gone that night. She’d never seen someone laugh so much; she’d never thought it would come from him, of all people. There was no rage. No resentment. No stress. Just laughter, and what she could only describe as joy.

And in her first free moment with Wally in days, she didn’t hesitate to ask him. She may not get another chance. But just figuring out _how_ to ask was a different story.

Unfortunately, it takes her a few minutes, after she sits down beside him at the dining table and watches him brooding in silence. When he finally turns to look at her curiously, she manages with what little she can, “Are you feeling well?”

“Yeah,” he feigns a look of surprise. “I’m fine.”

“You seem upset by something …”

“No, I’m _set_.”

“Set?” she blinks.

“You know, the opposite of upset,” he comments. But his voice is dry and cynical.

“Oh?” she doesn’t understand.

Wally doesn’t mind, because he’s lying through his teeth anyway. He just sighs without sound, as his eyes fall to the table. “I just… I’m confused about something. It’ll pass.” He looks at her, with a false smile, “I’ll be okay.”

“Are you sure?” she asks, leaning in with a calm hand on his arm.

“Yeah.”

But she doesn’t want the conversation to end yet. She wants to be helpful. She wants to console him somehow. Because no matter what he says, she knows he’s bothered by something and she doesn’t like that. Not at all.

She tries one more time, “You can tell me, if you need to talk about anything. I’m here-”

“Well… um… I think...” And it comes out suddenly, an ugly, stumbling rush of words, “Roysleptwithmybestfriend.”

“What,” she’s asking him to clarify, but he doesn’t stick around.

He gets up from the table, abandoning his empty chair as he flees the room.

“Ah,” she sighs to herself.

Mainly, because she has no idea what that means.

-

“What does this mean,” she chose to ask Kaldur, during the next free moment she could find with him, because he seemed like he’d know, “ _slept with?_ ”

Kaldur gives her a blank look, his eyes growing a little wide. Artemis, who happens to overhear the conversation, laughs in the background.

Megan is a bit embarrassed, so she apologizes hastily, “I’m sorry, but I’ve never heard it before-”

“Where did you hear it _now?_ ” Kaldur’s more perplexed than anything.

“Why? Is it bad,” she blinks, concern making her voice waver.

“It’s… It depends,” he acknowledges.

Artemis continues to snicker, as she enters the room to join in. She casually leans against the wall, as she keeps a close eye on Kaldur, paying careful attention as if she were watching tv.

“It’s.. something a man and woman do,” he attempts.

“Not always,” Artemis points out, with a sly smirk.

“Right,” Kaldur admits uncomfortably. “It’s something two _people_ do…”

“Just two?” Megan blinks at him.

“Oh, it could be more,” Artemis shrugs.

“Artemis, please,” Kaldur uses a stern voice.

“Sorry,” she throws up her hands with a cheeky grin, as she quiets down again.

“It’s…” he’s searching for words.

“ _Sex_ ,” Artemis says.

Kaldur’s face contorts into an irritated frown, and-

Megan’s expression is that of… Confusion.

“M’Gann, who was involved in this?” Kaldur asks her in a gentle tone.

She shakes her head, “It’s too private.”

“M’Gann…”

“It’s too personal,” she shakes her head, “I’m sorry.”

“Was it someone on our team,” he asks her slowly, and carefully.

She wants to continue saying nothing, but his response concerns her. And hesitantly, she starts to nod; before pausing suddenly, and shaking her head quickly, as if mistaken.

“Yes and no, huh,” Artemis tilts her head.

“M’Gann, what do you mean,” Kaldur pleads with her.

Artemis smirks, “I think I know what she means.”

They both turn their attention to her.

“Someone who's both on our team, and isn't.” She smiles.

Megan’s silence affirms her statement. She can do many things, but she can’t bring herself to lie.

Kaldur seems slightly more relieved at hearing that, as he relaxes his posture, and loses some of the stress in his shoulders.

But this prompts a new question from Megan, one she falsely assumes is innocent and not nearly as damning as it is. “Do any of you know Wally’s best friend?”

And all of Kaldur’s stress comes right back to him.

-

“I think he’s mad,” Dick groans, “at me,” as he struggles to speak between hoarse, panting breaths.

“Relax, Dick,” he pauses to speak, before he parts his lips and takes in the full length of his cock, sucking gently along the way. And Dick’s trying to formulate more words, but they’re completely lost between a ragged series of moans, as Roy’s free hand starts to cup and gently massage his balls, his fingers sliding between them and around in an almost playful tease as he pulls back, a rush of air brushing across his sensitive—and now very wet—cock.

And as he’s moving back down, teeth gently grazing along his foreskin on the way down, Dick’s whining, “I don’t know what to-” before he loses his words in a groan, as he feels a strong pressure and a spark of pleasure.

But once that spark subsides, Roy pulls back again, and says gently, as he trails a firm hand up his smooth stomach, “Just relax.” He caresses the tip of his cock with his tongue, and kisses it, teasing with a gentle kiss before he opens his mouth and envelopes the head inside.

Dick tries to follow his advice. He’s finding himself without the will to keep thinking about it, let alone form words. If there’s a choice to be made between this and talking about _Wally_ , no decision has ever been more obvious.

He reaches down and winds a hand in Roy’s hair, savoring its sharp texture. As he runs his other hand along Roy's nearest shoulder; the soft feel of his skin makes for a pleasant contrast. He’s sharp and smooth and gentle and strong; exactly the way he’d always imagined.

He’s startled with a sudden wave of pleasure, as Roy starts _sucking_ on him; in a pressure that starts and increases, and builds, and builds. The sensation mingles almost sickeningly with the persistent touch and massaging of the rest of his anatomy down there, and it’s frightening how quickly he’s gone from being calm to completely disoriented. If there’s anything scary about their time together, it’s this; Roy _knows_ things. He can do things that are _over_ whelming. Over, over and over.

Over, because that pleasure that started, hasn’t stopped. It’s still building. It intensifies. He finds himself starting to gasp when he breathes, as he digs his fingers into Roy’s shoulder to ease some of the pressure. He can’t control himself; not at this point. He’s gasping so hard that it starts to hurt, as Roy is assaulting his cock with his tongue, his lips, his teeth, his hands, his _everything_. More than what he even understands. Something powerful is happening. Something like the power in his hands during their first encounter in that bathroom stall.

And now he’s crying out as he pants more heavily than before, his legs shaking, his back arching to press himself deeper inside Roy’s mouth as he’s overwhelmed, completely overwhelmed as he closes his eyes and loses himself in that final spell of pleasure. And he’s coming inside his mouth, _I can’t believe this,_ he’s coming inside his mouth-

Once Dick is relaxing again, Roy pulls back, allowing his softening cock to slide out of his mouth. But he doesn’t say a word, moving silently as he sits up and crawls over the boy’s exhausted body. And as he hovers above him, he gives him a curious look, an expression that speaks with silence.

And he leans in to kiss him, like it’s second nature. Like it’s natural. Like it’s something he was born knowing how to do.

Dick reaches up and holds his face with his hands, to keep him there firmly as he opens his mouth wider, to deepen the kiss. Roy sighs pleasantly, his eyes half-lidded and heavy. And Dick starts to realize that Roy is…

_He’s turned on._

Roy is _hard_. Crazy hard; he can feel his erection digging into his thigh, as if requesting attention.

So he gives his lover a quick kiss and murmurs, “Let me help you.”

-

That night, Dick falls asleep in Roy’s bed. He shouldn’t. He knows better. He’s young, but he’s not _that_ stupid.

But he’s tired, and he feels so good that when he collapses against his chest, he doesn’t want to leave. Roy tries to suggest otherwise, but Dick guarantees that he can deal with some consequences; even if they both knew that was a statement born only from hope. He says he’ll leave Batman a message, and that would be all.

But when he calls, he doesn’t say where he is. He lies.

“Yeah, I’m with Wally.”

-

Wally called the next morning.

Dick’s awakened by the high-pitched song of a phone, but the melody is foreign to him. If it’s not Bruce, then… he opens his eyes, and is momentarily distracted by the sight of a sleeping man beside him. Laying flat on his back, the harsh sun traces the outline of his side profile, his chest rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm.

Dick forgets how _handsome_ Roy is.

Sometimes. But then there’s a moment like this…

And that song plays again.

Roy stirs, with a slight murmur of something incoherent as his tired eyes open, heavy and slow. Dick watches him in awe as he stirs, sitting up slowly and turning in the general direction of the music. And as he moves and turns, every muscle on his back is visible, every curve, every bend and detail. He can’t believe how incredible it is; how tight, how strong, how defined. He’s never had the luxury of seeing his body under honest daylight before.

And even as Roy answers his cell phone, he seems unaware that he’s being so intensely watched. But when he answers with a, “Hello,” he turns to Dick at last, giving him a subtle half-smile as he reaches out with a single hand, and idly runs his fingers through his hair.

He continues that comforting gesture, even as he starts to frown, “What are you talking about;” his fingers pause, then continue. “No. No I didn’t, Wally.”

Dick’s chest sinks. For the first time in days, he feels a genuine apprehension.

And Roy withdraws his hand, as he shifts his weight and repositions himself to sit more upright. “I don’t know. That wasn’t me.”

Dick suddenly wishes he could disappear and hide somewhere.

Roy’s raising his voice, “Don’t accuse me of that shit.”

Where did that come from....

“Don’t talk to me like that. Who do you think you are,” he hisses.

Oh, no.

“I’m Roy _fucking_ Harper, Wally. Who the hell are you.”

_Oh no._

“No, you’re just-” and he waits. He clenches his jaw tightly, like he’s trying to suppress his own words. But that doesn’t hold for very long. “Well get out of it. Get out of my business.”

_Roy-_

“No one asked you to-”

“Roy,” Dick’s voice is small and vulnerable.

Roy takes a quick glance at him, but he doesn’t pause in his conversation, as he turns back forward and growls into the phone. “Get out of my business.”

“Roy, hold on,” Dick tries again, as he starts to sit up.

His voice is like a sentence of death, “ **Get out of it**.”

And Dick sits still. He quiets down, instantly. And in that silence, Roy closes the phone shut, and carelessly tosses it onto the floor.

He stares in silence for a while, sighing slowly, before rolling his shoulders and asking calmly, “What, Dick.”

“What?” he’s not even sure what to say anymore.

“What is it,” his voice is tense and reserved, like he’s trying to restrain himself from another outburst or callous remark.

“Was that Wally…”

“Yes,” he says somberly. He tilts his head back, staring blankly towards the ceiling, “He knows.”

Dick doesn’t say anything. Mainly because he’s not sure of how to respond.

“You told him,” Roy asks in a quiet voice.

Dick just sighs, as his entire body slumps forward. He hugs his knees with his arms, and nearly buries his face inside them.

Roy stays silent for a moment, as his eyes shift over, to take a quick glance at Dick. After studying him for a moment, he turns his face completely, staring at him intently.

Dick can’t bring himself to look at him. He wants to die. He just wants to die.

But Roy’s not a cruel man. He’s not cruel enough to keep him feeling that way. Maybe he’d inflict that guilt on someone else, but not him. Not Dick.

So he tells him, as gently as he can, “It’s okay.”

But he doesn’t respond.

“It’s okay, alright.”

And when those eyes look back up at him, they’re sorrowful and glistening with the threat of tears. And his voice is fragile and full of heartache. “He hates me.”

“No,” Roy frowns.

“He hates it. He hates me, and now he’s gonna hate you too.”

Roy doesn’t know what to say, but he does turn his body more directly, crawling closer beside him, as he kneels before him and opens his arms.

Dick looks at him directly, but he doesn’t say anything. He knows what that means. He doesn’t say a word, but he does rise to his knees to crawl and bridge the distance between them, as he slides into an embrace. But as he feels those arms close around his back, he just feels more guilty than before. “It’s my fault.”

“No,” Roy pulls him closer, and holds just a little tighter.

“Because I kissed you,” his voice is small and almost gone.

Roy sighs, as he leans his face into the boy’s neck, as he begins to gently massage his back. After a moment of deliberation, his brow heavy and his voice firm, he says, “I’m the one that let you.”

“But I started it…”

“No, I did. I wanted you.”

Roy’s not surprised when he receives silence as a response. He’s not even surprised when Dick pulls back a little, moving back slightly. He expects him to be offended, or bothered. At least a little. He expects him to feel manipulated, or coerced just slightly. At least.

But Dick sits back, and when Roy stares at him in silence, he sends him a smile; a genuine one. “You _fell_ for me.”

“Yeah,” Roy confesses. But it feels less like a confession and more like a revelation. Something he’d known, but never thought to phrase in quite that way.

“You fell in _love_ with me,” Dick says. But he’s not telling him; he’s asking. He wants validation. He wants reassurance. Comfort.

Roy tells him honestly, “I did.”

But Dick’s not completely satisfied yet. He’s not unhappy, but…

Roy repositions his arms, to gently draw Dick back into an embrace, this one equally as close and firm as before. But it feels different somehow. It feels light, and free. And when he speaks, his voice is peaceful and quiet. “I really did.”

-

Wally sighs, as he reshuffles his heavy backpack over his shoulders, trying to balance the weight around. He hates this stupid thing. He hates these books; too many of them are dead weight. They slow him down.

But it’s not like he can freely run around in public, anyway. Out here, he’s just an ordinary kid. An awkward, clumsy, talkative kid that tries in vain to be popular. Someday, he’d figure it out. But in the meantime, he’s just Wallace West. And save for personal conflicts he’d rather not admit openly, Wallace lives a rather unremarkable existence.

Wally was just some kid. Until he met Dick Grayson. Dick was just some kid too, but he was fun and ambitious and crazy like him. He was his brother in arms, accomplice in mischief, and the only person willing to listen to everything he had to say. When everyone else grew tired of him and went home, Dick was always there to keep him company.

Since then, Wally had still spent most of his life existing as just some kid. But he had a friend to keep him company. That made all the difference in the world.

And then, _Roy_ happened.

When they first met, Wally didn’t think much of him. He had a vague respect that grew into a mutual friendship as Roy assimilated into their lives. He didn’t dislike him enough to force him out, so he tolerated him. Him, with his sarcastic comments and cynical point of view. Him, with his competitive nature and aggressive mouth.

So in regards to Roy, for the longest time, Wally felt tolerance. And that turned into respect for his skill and dedication. And that sentiment turned into an enjoyment of his company, which evolved into the way things had been now; from the moment Roy shows up, Wally finds himself almost giddy with excitement. Sometimes things just happen that way. It started like a slow itch that grew and deepened into an attachment. And now, he couldn’t get rid of Roy if he tried. He’d feel the loss.

But there was one thing that Wally had always kept sacred. One thing that no one, not even Roy himself, could ever touch or ruin: his friendship with Dick.

Because there was no one more important in his life. No one.

He knew things would change someday. He knew they would eventually grow up, and go their own separate ways. But he wanted to be the kind of friend that would only be a phone call away, no matter where he was in the world. When he said Dick was his _best_ friend, he meant it. He would always be there. Through rain, sun, lightning, floods, earthquakes, the world shattering, anything. _Anything_. Even if it cost him his life, he would rush to his side. He would go there.

And that’s why he loved _and_ hated Roy.

Because when Roy was around, Dick wasn’t just his friend anymore. Roy was the one person that could take Dick away from him.

No one asked him if he was okay with it. No one considered his thoughts. Dick didn’t ask for his advice. He stumbled into something reckless and significant, got caught up in it, and only admitted something that happened days, maybe weeks after the fact. Who knows how long before. Wally doesn’t.

He just knows that one day, Dick Grayson was his best friend. And the next, he was keeping secrets from him. Divulging half-truths. Sneaking around and devoting his free time to someone else.

Someone he thought was his friend. Someone he assumed would have his interests in mind. Someone he assumed would be perceptive enough to know that Dick belonged to _him_. It wasn’t fair. Wally claimed him. Wally had told Roy, to his face, “He’s gonna be mine someday.”

_Mine._

And Roy had the nerve to stand there with a straight, neutral face, and comment back, “Hope that works out for you.”

-

“Ahhh,” Wally sighs, as he looks up and sees his home up ahead. As he makes the seemingly long trek up to his front door, he complains, “What a long day.”

It was the kind of day that felt eternal. Being made fun of at lunch hour, spilling his soda on the floor, forgetting half of his homework and misplacing his notes for a presentation. It wasn’t easy being a kid superhero; he was so disorganized and stressed lately that it was even more difficult than usual.

As he stands in front of his door, the hot sun baking into his skin, he fumbles for his keys. He knows he placed them somewhere… pocket, nope. Backpack…

While he’s searching, he’s startled by a sudden disturbance. A sound, like the tightening of a rope. He can’t at all place what it is, but-

 _Phwoosh_ , and there it is: an arrow, on his front door. At first he panics, but when he realizes that it doesn’t have a sharp point, he calms down a little. But he’s still not completely understanding why it’s here, or where it came from. He hesitantly turns to look behind himself, but sees no one. And when he hesitantly reaches up a hand to grab hold of it and pull it down, he hears a voice suddenly, from what can’t be more than a few feet away, “There you are.”

Wally freezes up; an instant pang of… is it irritation, or…

And he hears footsteps, turning to see Roy approaching, calmly as if there’s nothing unusual about what he’s doing. He’s ignoring the fact that he just shot an arrow against Wally’s front door as Wally removes it, detaching a small strip of paper that’s wound tightly around the shaft. The instant he snaps it off, it comes undone in his fingers.

“You couldn’t say this like a normal person?” Wally asks. But then he reads the writing, quickly realizing that it’s not from Roy.

_Dick._

Wally frowns as he goes over the letters, with a heavy heart and disbelief. When he looks up at Roy for confirmation, all he receives is that cold stare, neutral and detached. But Wally wants to believe that’s a lie. He wants to believe Roy cares, somewhere deep down.

“He’s… sorry?” he can barely voice it, because he doesn’t believe it. “What is he apologizing to _me_ for?”

Roy doesn’t give him an answer he wants. “Figure it out,” he says.

“Figure what out? I’m a jerk to him, and _he’s_ sorry?” 

Roy doesn’t respond; he even allows himself to get distracted, as he turns to look at a car that rolls down the street. There’s nothing interesting about it, but he’s looking for an excuse to look away.

“What did you tell him?” Wally suddenly demands.

“What,” Roy’s frowning at him.

“You spoke to him last,” Wally’s shifting the blame; he feels he’s on the right track, but it’s so difficult to be sure… “So what did you say?”

Roy fights to resist the urge to show his agitation, but it still appears as a subdued grimace, “I told him it was okay.”

“You’re full of it,” Wally accuses him, with a light shove on his chest.

Roy stares at him incredulously, as if stunned; but not because he’s hurt. “What I’m full of, is annoyance.”

“Right,” Wally mocks him, “Just like always. Always here to ruin the party.”

“And the next time you push me,” Roy picks up where he left off, “I’ll return the gesture.”

“What..” Wally’s eyes widen, as he realizes what he just said. With a nervous grin, “Y-you’ll.. hit me?”

Roy says nothing.

“You’re kidding, right?”

Roy turns away, “I’m leav-.”

Wally interrupts him, “Hey, wait a second.” He holds up the paper, as Roy looks back over his shoulder, “Why are you delivering this?”

Roy pauses, as he thinks that over. But it’s not about what his thoughts are, but how he’s going to explain them.

“Didn’t want to tell me himself?” Wally shrugs. But behind his confident appearance is the evidence of disappointment; his voice is fragile, like it hurts to say those words.

Roy hates to air someone else’s secrets, but this one seems more important than most. “He thought you’d react badly.”

“Why would he think that?” Wally asks, exasperated. “What did you _say_ to him?”

Roy frowns, as he deepens his voice, showing his frustration. “I _told_ him it was okay.”

“But that’s not the problem, is it,” Roy accuses him. He turns away again, staring out into the street as he says, “You have a bigger problem than that.” He pauses, and finishes his statement, “I suggest you think it over.”

“Think what over?” Wally asks, in a question that’s more of a confused whine.

“What’s wrong with _you_ ,” Roy says.

And with that, he’s leaving. Wally stares at him, stares as he walks down the street, as he clenches one of his hands into a fist.

Something inside of him is breaking.

He uses one foot to step forward, and he yells, his voice echoing out, “You know what’s wrong with me, you asshole!”

Roy stops. He stops, and turns around. He’s too far gone for Wally to see his face, but he knows he’s being studied. He knows he’s being analyzed accordingly. But Roy’s taking the wrong approach, if that’s how he expects to solve this.

And when Roy comes back, coming to stand before him with an irritated frown, it’s all Wally can do to resist punching him: for real this time. He remains calm. He remains focused. He does what he can to make sure Roy understands.

Because Roy likes to run away. He likes to flee the scene of a conflict. If he can end an argument unresolved, as long as he’s the current victor, he will. He doesn’t need to defeat his opponent. He just likes to gain the advantage and leave.

And Wally’s damn tired of playing that game.

“You took him from me,” Wally says; but as he speaks, his voice is weaker than he anticipated. His words are breaking up, “You just came right in and _took_ him.”

In a rare show of respect, Roy chooses to remain silent. He’s listening, for once.

So Wally goes on, “Don’t you remember?” Wally’s hands are shaking, so he clenches them tightly, tightly enough to turn his knuckles white, “I _told_ you.” His whole body trembles, “I _told_ you I wanted him, I told you what I felt and-”

“I’m sorry.”

“I told you I-” he stops. “What…”

“I’m sorry,” he repeats. But he’s not agitated this time. He sounds… somber. Disappointed, almost.

Wally finds himself in a sudden state of confusion. How could he angrily rant at someone that was giving him… _that_ look. His eyes are heavy. His face is calm. His posture is tense; his breathing is shallow.

Roy tells him, “I didn’t intend for it to happen.”

“Bullshit,” Wally starts-

“I tried to avoid it. I didn’t indulge it,” he frowns, “for a while.”

And now it’s Wally’s turn to listen. The man of few words had decided to open up, even if only a little.

“I remembered what you said. I tried to honor that,” he acknowledges, and stares at him directly, “but he pursued me.”

Wally’s chest is tightening. "Ok, but-”

“I’m not a monster. But I had to make the choice.” He frowns, but more so to himself this time, “You’re allowed to hate me,” Roy says, with a bow of acknowledgement, “I will bear that.”

“But I don’t want to- You’re my friend,” he insists, even if his words are crumbling at the edges.

“But if that’s what you feel, own it.”

“I…” his eyes fall to the ground. He looks at his shoes, and the shadow his legs cast against the cement beneath them. That shadow bridges the space between his feet and Roy’s; it obscures them with darkness. “I don’t know. I don’t know what I want anymore.”

Roy says nothing; wisely, he waits.

“I mean...” he looks at him with doubt in his face, as his shoulders start to fall slack, “Do you _want_ me to hate you?”

“I will accept it.”

“But…” he frowns to himself, “would that be _okay_ with you?”

Roy takes in a deep breath, and silently lets it go. He closes his eyes one time, and opens them slowly. When he speaks, his resolve is firm, his voice stoic and neutral, “I am your friend, whether you resent me or not.”

“Roy,” Wally starts-

“I apologize for disappointing you. It was never my intention.”

“Roy, you don’t…” he bows his head, and says in a small voice, “You don’t have to apologize to me.”

Roy tilts his head, waiting for further explanation.

“I don’t deserve it,” Wally sighs. He slides his hands into his pockets, and stares at the ground sorrowfully, like he’s losing the will to keep his head up. “I’m just acting being spoiled.”

Roy starts to frown; a subtle shift in his eyes, a slight grimace tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“He never belonged to me anyway,” Wally starts to breathe erratically, like he’s overwhelmed by some unseen, unheard impact, “He doesn’t belong to anyone but himself.”

Roy frowns, but mostly to himself. 

“No, I’m wrong,” Wally mumbles, as he looks up at Roy with heavy eyes that are clouded and glossed over, “He belongs to you now, right.”

Roy reaches out, and stiffly puts a hand on his shoulder. But the right words aren’t coming now.

Wally forces it out, in an awkward stumbling of words and sounds, “A-and I have to accept that.”

Roy manages a comment, his attempt at reassurance, “He is still your friend, Wally.”

“Yeah,” Wally forces a stiff laugh, but they both know it isn’t real. He frowns as he starts to tremble from sadness, embarrassment and everything in between. “He’s my friend, and so are you, so I’m not gonna be mad, alright.” He starts to sniffle to himself, but he does what he can to downplay it, “I’m gonna be okay, and I’m gonna find somebody else, so I,” as his shoulders are visibly shaking, “I’m not gonna be a jerk anymore, okay?” He forces a smile, because he wishes, more than anything that he could feel what it signifies. “I don’t wanna hate anybody.” He clumsily wipes at his eyes with erratic, unstable fingers.

Roy finally starts to move that hand at his shoulder, caressing it in a gesture of platonic affection, before he starts to feel too awkward doing so, and stops. But the move served its purpose. Wally’s shoulders rise up just a little; just enough to keep going with this conversation. "Wally." He pauses to think, before continuing, “If you feel angry at me, you should say so.” He stares at him directly, his intent gaze almost intimidating as the sun starts to fall behind him. The sky’s turning orange, and illuminating the edges of his figure. The shadows across his face are more pronounced than ever, and oppressive in their darkness. But his words are kinder than they have been in years. “Dick is not the only friend I care about, Wally. Don't forget that.”

Wally smiles a little at that; although he’s hesitant to lift his spirits too high, until Roy’s expressed everything he has to say.

“And if you have to yell at me, or hit me or whatever, I’ll take it.”

Wally stares at him, “But earlier, you said if I hit you, you’d-”

“I lied.” He even manages a small grin, “Come on, Wally.”

Wally smiles to himself, more genuinely this time, “Yeah, I guess so-”

“Trust me,” Roy tells him. “I’m not an asshole. You know that.”

“Yeah,” Wally smirks. “You’re just a jerk sometimes.”

“I’m a well-intentioned jerk,” he says dryly. He finally pulls back his hand, and folds his arms across his chest. “But I am _not_ an asshole.”

“Yeah,” Wally admits sheepishly, “I’m sorry. I didn’t really mean that.”

Roy isn’t sure how to respond to that.

“Why are you…” Wally frowns, “Being so nice, anyway?” He pokes him in the arm, “Are you sure you’re not… Megan in disguise, or something?”

When he speaks again, his voice is deep enough to make the ground shake, “Trust me.”

“Whoa,” Wally throws his hands up in the air, “I get it. You’re you.”

Roy just shrugs it off.

“But uh,” Wally hesitantly frowns, “Um.”

“What.”

“Um…” he starts to blush, and the embarrassment from doing so makes him blush even more, “Uh-” he scratches his head, “Can you guys… _not_ involve me in your… plans next time?”

“What,” Roy tilts his head.

“W-well… Batman called my house, and that’s really awkward. It’s _really_ difficult to lie to him..?”

“Okay,” Roy acknowledges. “I’ll pass on the message.”

“Oh, so it was _Dick_ ’s idea,” he snickers.

“Of course. He didn’t ask for my approval-”

“I totally know what you mean, dude,” he laughs.

Roy doesn’t completely understand the joke, but he’s glad to hear that sound. Unsure of what to say exactly, he simply nods and smiles back.

-

“I talked to Roy yesterday,” Wally finally admits, when he finds a spare moment of downtime to breach the subject.

“Aw, man,” Dick whines, as he keeps an eye over the balcony, where they’re monitoring the premises for intruders, “Can we _not_ get into that right now?”

“Huh? Why,” Wally whines at him.

“Kaldur ripped into him _bad_ , and Megan was asking me if I’m okay, and Artemis has been making fun of me-”

“ _Oh_ ,” Wally says, feeling a sudden wave of shame.

“Since you told everyone,” Dick complains.

“I didn’t _mean_ to,” Wally feigns a hurt tone in his voice. “But seriously, Kaldur..?”

“He was peeved. Totally peeved. Said Roy’s too old, this and that.”

“Oh. The usual,” Wally shrugs.

“I mean, I don’t really care but- What’s _that_ supposed to mean?” Robin tries to send a glare in his direction, but it doesn’t communicate as effectively as he’d like.

“Come on, you _know_ he’s kinda old for you?” Wally tries to politely suggest.

“Dude,” Robin protests. “Not in the mood.”

“Sorry,” he raises his hands in defeat.

“What’s going on with you and Roy, anyway?”

“Huh?” that catches Wally off-guard, as he sits down beside him cautiously, afraid he’s already made Dick upset.

But Dick just turns to look at him, anxiety somehow emanating from his face, even from behind his mask, “What did you say to him… before?”

“Before- _Oh_ ,” he hits himself on the forehead. In a worried voice, “The call.”

“Yeah, he was…” Dick pauses, "really upset.”

“I know,” Wally sighs, “I was there, remember?”

“Yeah,” Dick laughs a little, “I guess you caught the worst of it.”

“Heck yeah I did,” he groans.

Dick laughs quietly, a near-giggle.

“But I uh…” Wally shrugs, his entire posture shifting as he reveals some of his regret, “I just accused him of some things. Mean things.”

Dick looks at him, tilting his head in question.

“I asked him what he was doing, things like that. Like I had any right to order him around.”

Dick asks in a small voice, “What were you so mad about?”

“I…” Wally sighs, covering his face with his hands, “Oh God, this just got embarrassing.”

“What,” Dick asks, as he’s trying not to laugh.

Wally tries to explain it without saying the words themselves, “I…” he points to himself, “you know,” he closes his eyes and with his fingers, draws the shape of a heart in the air.

“You like Roy?” Dick asks in a deadpanned voice.

“No, stupid! I-” he stops, as he starts to blush furiously.

“Wha… _oh_ ,” Dick’s jaw drops for a second, before he collects himself. “I… _me?_ " 

Silence.

"Uh- For reals, Mr. _I'm not gay?_ ”

Wally’s lack of adequate words is the answer he was looking for.

“Oh wow, I’m sorry,” Dick apologizes, covering his mouth with his hands, as if he wants to laugh. But it’s more out of nervousness than humor, “I’m so sorry dude, I really didn’t-”

“But you like _him_ , right,” Wally finally sighs a little, as he repositions his hands against the roof and leans back onto his arms.

Dick just hangs his head in silence.

“Dick?” Wally asks in a near-whisper.

When Dick looks up, he’s almost unable to speak. From behind his mask, what’s forming is a blush that’s so powerful, it turns the tip of his nose red.

“Whoa,” Wally gasps.

Dick just shrugs nervously, and laughs through it.

“So you do, then,” Wally stares in bewilderment.

“I already _told_ you, doofus,” Dick says. 

“You were serious.”

“I was super, super serious. Like,” he pauses, and gestures in the air with his hands, as he holds them far apart, “Take _this_ amount of serious,” as he exaggerates the distance, “and times that by like, the twentieth power.”

“Uh…” Wally tilts his head, “I have no idea what that number looks like.”

“It’s _huge_ ,” Robin says. “And probably still not big enough,” he rests his chin in his hands.

“Wow." Wally holds up a hand to stop the conversation. And in a sly voice, “Nerd.”

“Sure, Mr. First Place in the Science Fair.”

“Hey, that was a _good_ project.”

“Yeah,” he laughs, “Sure it was. Mine would’ve been better.”

“Well that’s what you get for using up all your free time, Mr. I Wear Short Shorts.”

“It’s the _beach!_ Why would you wear long shorts to the beach,” he asks incredulously.

“Does Roy like them?”

“He hasn’t even _seen_ them yet-”

Wally’s too busy laughing to listen any further. Dick then realizes it was a joke, and hits him on the shoulder.

“ _Oww_ ,” Wally overreacts.

And suddenly,

A voice, from down below. Artemis calls up to them, “Guys!”

“What’s up?” Wally looks down over the ledge.

“Look alive! We’ve got company.”

“Yeah!” Dick cheers to himself as he stands up, “Time to rock and roll.”

“Yeah!” Wally seconds that, as he gets up as well, as stretches his legs.

“Hey, before we go?” Dick pauses, to look at him intently.

“What?” Wally comes to a complete standstill.

“Are we cool?” Dick asks.

“Yeah-”

“Are you and Roy cool?”

“Huh? Aw, _man_ ,” Wally laughs faintly, “You don’t have to worry about that.”

“But Wally-”

“He’s my bro, remember? That’s what we talked about.” He smiles, “We’re totally _set_.”

“Oh. ‘Trocious,” Dick grins.

Wally watches him, as he leaps off the roof, with a giddy laugh that rings through the air.

Dick Grayson really is a special, wonderful person. He’s warm, he’s clever, kind and funny. He’s his brother in arms. His accomplice in mischief. And he may not be his partner in love or anything related—he knows he’s lost that chance—but…

This is pretty damn okay, too. Because what they have is pretty incredible.

And with that thought in mind, Wally gleefully jumps down after him.


End file.
